


Catboys Hate Bathtime

by shadowsapiens



Series: The Werewolf's Captive Catboy [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Bath Sex, Bathing, Breathplay, Bruises, Choking, Large Cock, M/M, Nonconsensual developing relationship, Passing Out, Rough Sex, Sex Slave, Size Difference, Unconscious Sex, Werewolf, catboy, rough nipple play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:21:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25986574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsapiens/pseuds/shadowsapiens
Summary: Sasha’s pathetic whimpers are so sharp and cute through the gag—but even that can’t distract Ned from the obvious realization:His pet needs a bath.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character, Werewolf/Catboy
Series: The Werewolf's Captive Catboy [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1421848
Comments: 29
Kudos: 292





	Catboys Hate Bathtime

Ned notices it as he’s pumping into Sasha for the third time that day. The tiny catboy is bent over the arm of Ned’s armchair, and his hole is blissfully tight around Ned’s cock. Sasha’s pathetic whimpers are so sharp and cute through the gag—but even that can’t distract Ned from the obvious realization: 

His pet needs a bath.

Sasha smells heavenly, of course. He smells like fear and desire and something uniquely _Ned_. But the spare curves of his ass are coated in come and dirt, and his fluffy white tail is matted. A streak of dried blood almost obscures the deep blue bruises on his arms. 

Ned tightens his grasp on Sasha’s waist and shoves in for a final brutal thrust. The force of his orgasm clears any other thought from his head—he whites out with pleasure, with satisfaction, with the feel of his kitten around him. All the little sensations, from the silken tail brushing against his belly to the delightful give of flesh beneath his fingernails. The indentations left when he unclenches his hands and strokes Sasha’s lean hips. The pathetic tightening of Sasha’s hot, slick hole at the base of his cock, milking every last drop of come from him. 

Ned bows over and presses a sloppy kiss to Sasha’s shoulder blade. Sasha flinches at the gesture, and the increased tension only feels better on his cock. No matter how gently, how soothingly Ned pets him, Sasha’s whip-thin body fails to relax. 

Yes, maybe a nice warm bath is just what he needs today. 

There’s a hot spring in the mountains, just a candlemark’s hike away, and for a moment Ned toys with the idea of a nice outing. He could bring a bottle of whiskey, a basket of food, make an afternoon of it. Then he shakes off the bizarre sentimentality as he withdraws slowly from Sasha’s body. The abused, reddened hole clings to his cock, like it’s meant to hold him even though Sasha hates it so much. No, a nice picnic would send entirely the wrong message. He can’t let himself get too sweet on the boy.

Sasha slumps over the chair arm, trembling with exhaustion. His ears and hands twitch every once in a while, and his ribs heave in great unsteady breaths. Ned wipes his cock off on the boy’s hip, leaving a new smear of oil and come, then fastens up his trousers. He slaps Sasha’s ass affectionately and leaves him there to get a bath ready. 

He drags the tub out and drops it on the porch, next to his rocking chair. The loud wooden thud stirs Sasha from his collapse, and a weak voice calls out from the cabin, “What is that?”

“That’s me doing you a favor, Snowflake,” Ned replies cheerfully.

His wolf’s hearing is very good, so he catches Sasha mumbling into the upholstery: “Yeah fucking right.”

There’s snow deep on the ground and the air holds a chill, but the early afternoon sky is clear and bright. Ned shovels enough snow into the wooden tub, then drops a talisman in. The paper sizzles and melts until only the spiky red rune remains—then the rune too disappears, and the snow begins melting into water. Ned tests it with his fingertips and finds it still cool. He tosses in another talisman without thinking about it, then stops to reflect as steam rises from the rippling surface. He never cares if his own baths are on the colder side. It’s a peculiar instinct, wanting the water more comfortable for his fucktoy.

Shaking off the strange feeling, Ned returns to the cabin. Sasha has moved to curl up in the armchair, his knees up to his chest and his fluffy tail wrapped around his ankles. He doesn’t look up, but his ears flick with every approaching footfall. 

“Nap time’s over, kitten.” Ned doesn’t wait for a response before hauling Sasha to his feet. He’s thrilled as always with how easy it is to drag the slender catboy around, and the way his rough hand fully circles the thin upper arm. Such delicate skin that the mere touch of Ned’s battle-scarred hands can bruise him by accident—which is nearly as delicious as the intentional bruises. “I’ve got a treat for you today.”

Sasha stumbles along, not even trying to struggle. “If it’s anything like yesterday’s ‘treat,’ you can shove it up your own ass.”

“Whose fault is that? I gave you the choice—my cock, or the glass one.” Sure, he’d neglected to mention the glass dildo was enchanted to not just vibrate, but also change temperature at random. But Sasha _had_ asked for it. 

Sasha just growls his annoyance.

Then they reach the porch and the steaming tub, and Sasha digs in his heels. Which doesn’t even slow Ned down, so the little catboy ends up half-falling, half-flailing the final few steps. “No, no, no,” he hisses. “You’re going to fucking drown me.”

“I just might if you keep carrying on like this.” Ned lets go of Sasha’s arm to grab his neck instead. Annoyance sparks through nerve and sinew, and releases with instinctive change. His hands grow, hair sprouting along the backs of them, his nails lengthening and sharpening into claws. 

Sasha goes still at the first pinpricks against his throat. A single drop of blood wells up beneath Ned’s forefinger, then traces a slow bright path towards Sasha’s collarbone. Ned’s mouth waters, and he inhales deeply to savor the scent. It takes all his self-control to let go, saying, “In you get.”

Tired as he is from the day’s exertions, Sasha stumbles as he gets a leg over the rim. He hisses adorably when his foot touches the water, and his ears pin back in endearing distress. His tail lifts up, avoiding the water’s surface. 

“Sit down.” Ned grabs Sasha’s shoulder and forces him down before he can obey. Sasha yelps and crumples in a dramatic splash of water, half-soaking Ned and fully soaking himself. Ned’s blood quickens with the slick, struggling skin under his hands, the rhythm of Sasha’s trembling breaths. His flannel shirt sticks uncomfortably to his arms, but he’s too entranced with the fine wet hairs curling against Sasha’s neck.

Sasha’s arms stretch to either side, and his knuckles whiten against the rim of the tub. Kneeling, the water hits between his collarbone and nipples. It laps against him as the surface settles. Ned strokes the back of his neck, pushing damp hair to the side so he can trace every vertebra. His hands revert to human as he does so. No more claws, but his rough fingers still look exhilaratingly large against Sasha’s fragile bones. 

“Is the water warm enough?” he asks, just because he knows Sasha hates when he talks like this. Not because he wants Sasha to be comfortable. 

“Yes, it’s great,” Sasha says dully. “I absolutely love it.”

Ned laughs and reaches for the soap. 

There are cleaning talismans too, of course, but Ned doesn’t like relying on bought magic too much. Some things are better done with a hands-on approach. He lathers up the bar in his hands, then starts working the suds into Sasha’s hair. Sasha flinches, but holds still as Ned strokes through the soft white strands. He takes extra care with Sasha’s delicate ears, soaping up the outer shells and fondling the sensitive tips. Sasha’s quiet whimper and sudden flush can’t be entirely due to the heat of the water. He whimpers even louder when Ned gently massages the base of his ears. 

“Just being thorough.” Ned caresses the back of Sasha’s head and tightens his fingers in his slick hair. “Now, deep breath and close your eyes.”

Then he shoves Sasha’s head underwater.

Despite his generous warning, Sasha struggles desperately. Uselessly. Ned barely exerts any strength to hold Sasha underwater as he rubs most of the soap out of his hair. He lingers as thin white limbs thrash under the water. He’s about to let him up when Sasha’s little hands clutch pathetically at his wrist. The futile grasp, the tiny pain of fingernails digging into his skin….

It’s arousing enough that Ned takes an extra moment to savor the downrush of blood.

Happily, letting Sasha up is just as arousing. The little catboy gasps for breath, ribs heaving, lips parted. His eyes fly open, then shut again, red at the corners. Best of all, he still clutches Ned’s arm.

Ned uses his other hand to adjust his cock in his trousers. Then he reluctantly extricates himself to resume stroking through Sasha’s hair, making sure all of the soap is out. 

Well, most of the soap. He gets distracted by Sasha’s wet, heaving body, and the instinctive need of his hands to wander. Sasha clings to the side of the tub as Ned starts soaping up his back. All his earlier snark is gone, replaced with compliant trembling and quick little breaths.

“Good boy,” Ned says, and Sasha’s ears don’t even twitch.

Dirtying up his fucktoy is fun, but turns out, so is cleaning him up. Ned takes his time, entranced by the way dirt rubs away to reveal pale skin and beautiful blue and purple mottling. There’s a patch of bruise fading to green and yellow at Sasha’s waist, so faint it’s barely visible through the rippling water. Another day and it might have been gone without Ned getting the chance to appreciate it. Truly remarkable, how well Sasha’s body bears the proof of Ned’s ownership. Nearly two months have passed, and Ned still hasn’t tired of it.

Sasha moves obediently as Ned pushes him around, to better clean every angle of his toy. He tugs Sasha backwards against the edge, so his head leans against Ned’s chest and Ned can reach down to wash the front of him. The soapy water has already soaked most of the dirt away, but Ned likes to be thorough.

He lathers up with soap again and scrubs roughly down Sasha’s chest. His calluses catch against Sasha’s nipples, so pink and—somehow, impossibly—even softer than the rest of his skin. Ned lingers on them, fingering the soap into the tender buds. They’re so delicate, the faintest scrape of Ned’s fingertips makes Sasha squirm. Ned rubs deep, tight circles around them, until they start stiffening with the stimulation, until the slick soap wears away and there’s enough friction to pinch one between thumb and forefinger and _pull_.

Sasha whimpers, arching up to ease the pain. Ned holds him back by the throat, kisses the back of a delicate ear, and twists the little nub back and forth between his fingers. Sasha whines again, and the sweet little sound vibrates through Ned’s palm.

When he lets go, Sasha’s nipple stays red and deformed for a moment before receding to its usual shape. Ned digs his fingernails into the soft flesh around it, scraping right up to the abused bud before switching to blunt fingertips. The firm circling still draws another sharp sound from Sasha’s throat, and he jerks helplessly against Ned’s left hand. 

“You sound so fucking hot,” Ned breathes into his hair. “Do that again.”

He doesn’t know if Sasha even tries to resist. He barely has to tug the second nipple and Sasha’s wincing and gasping again. Just in case his naughty pet is trying to put on a show to get off easy, Ned twists this one harder. He pinches it so tight it nearly flattens between his fingers. Tugs it in and out, watching the soft pink flesh whiten and redden. Only then does he swipe more soap from the bar and gently massage the lather into his pet’s tender, blood-hot nipple. 

He says, thoughtfully, “I’ve never pierced someone before, but it can’t be that hard, right?”

Sasha just swallows hard against his palm. 

“I can just drop healing potions into you and start over, until I’m done practicing.” He pauses the tender massage to flick Sasha’s nipple. “What do you think, gold rings or silver?”

“I think you’re a dick,” Sasha retorts. His voice only barely wavers. 

Ned just laughs and flips him around in the tub.

He’s spent a lot of time groping Sasha’s bony ass this winter, but Sasha still hates it as much as ever. Ned squeezes one little cheek. His fingers slip with the soap, so he squeezes harder. Sasha slumps against the wooden side, forehead against the rim so Ned can’t see his face. Fortunately, Ned really isn’t interested in his face right now.

He presses up under Sasha’s tail, which thrashes reflexively at the intrusion. The tip flicks over the water’s surface, flinging water into Ned’s face. Ned pinches Sasha’s ass under the water. “What’s the matter, Snowflake? Nothing we haven’t done before.”

Sasha’s only response is tightening his white-knuckled grip on the edge of the tub.

Ned resumes carefully cleaning his kitten. He strokes Sasha’s tightly furled hole, sliding over hot, sensitive skin. Even a single fingertip meets so much resistance when he pushes. He shoves one finger all the way in on a whim, crooking it up and away from Sasha’s prostate because the angle’s awkward and this is more about his own enjoyment anyway. He doesn’t feel like putting in effort to get Sasha off right now. He just likes the way Sasha feels around him, the futile rejection of Sasha’s ass clenching around his finger. 

Yeah, he really likes that. He shifts uncomfortably on his knees, then decides Sasha’s had enough relaxing bathtime. He withdraws his finger and stands back to strip. 

Sasha looks up. “Are you—” he starts, before he sees Ned’s trousers hit the floorboards. That seems to answer his question, and he turns away as if to contemplate the nearby treeline. As if the bare, tree-blanketed forest holds any hope of distraction or escape.

“Scoot forward,” Ned says. “There’s a good pet.”

The tub is sized for one very large man without accounting for an additional toy, and getting in is awkward at best. He drags Sasha up to stand shakily, giving Ned space to step in too. Water sloshes over the rim when he stands behind Sasha, and he takes time to run his hands up and down Sasha’s sides. The pale skin is so slick and soft. He pulls Sasha backwards against him, gripping new bruises over his narrow hipbones, and slowly rubs his cock against Sasha’s spine. 

“I could come just like this,” he says. “But I’m going to come inside you instead, because I want to, and you’re mine. Isn’t that right?”

“I’m not,” Sasha whispers. The defiance is only sweetened when he stutters on it.

Half the water pours out in a soapy wave when Ned sits. He yanks Sasha down onto his lap, facing towards him with his thin legs stretched comically wide across Ned’s thighs. After a moment of flailing, he braces against Ned’s chest for balance. His hands look pale and nearly translucent against Ned’s pelt of wiry dark hair. Ned’s erection rests heavily against Sasha’s stomach and soft little cock. 

Ned leans over the side and fishes a bottle of oil from his trousers. “Put your hands out.”

Sasha hesitates. 

“Fine.” Ned starts closing the bottle again. It’s not easy with wet fingers. “I’ll fuck you without lube.” 

Hissing, Sasha holds up his palm. Ned pats his cheek and pours out a generous amount of oil. Most of it will wash off in the water anyway. 

“Do you.” Sasha looks down, wet hair falling to hide his face. His ears flick forward and back. When he speaks again, his voice is very quiet: “Do you want me to use this on me or you?”

Ned drops the near-empty bottle over the side and leans back, arms propped against the edge of the tub. “Slick up my cock, then sit down on it.” 

Sasha hesitates again. For a moment, Ned hopes he’s going to refuse—the little catboy doesn’t take well to being forced into more active participation when Ned fucks him. But before Ned can think of an enjoyably persuasive threat, Sasha cups his hands together, as if in attempt to keep the oil from all washing away, and drops them under the water.

Ned prefers Sasha’s ass, of course, but he won’t complain about the two slick hands against his shaft. Sasha’s hands cover so little of his cock, and he keeps fumbling and ruining the rhythm—he’s honestly terrible at this. Ned really ought to set aside an afternoon to teach him how to give a proper handjob. Or not. The inexperienced fumbling is just so attractive. Ned’s cock twitches with the stimulation, and an extra hit of pleasure shivers through his nerves when Sasha circles his entire palm over his head. 

Sasha’s probably not finished, but who knows if the oil’s doing anything under the water. Ned’s ready to use his little fucktoy the way it’s meant to be used. “All right, princess. You have twenty seconds to get on my cock, or you’ll regret it.”

Sasha’s tail lashes under the water, and he stares up with big blue eyes.

“One,” Ned says helpfully. “Two.”

Water splashes as Sasha scrambles up, clinging to Ned’s shoulder to keep himself high enough. It can’t be easy kneeling up with his legs spread so wide around Ned’s thighs. He reaches behind himself, and the movement stretches his gleaming wet skin beautifully over his ribs. His nipples are still swollen red.

The first time he tries grabbing Ned’s cock, his fingers slide off. Then Ned feels Sasha’s entrance against his head, and futile pressure—

Ned completely forgets to count as Sasha struggles downwards. He’s well familiar with the moment of entry, the sheer physical difficulty of forcing such a small opening around his generously proportioned cock. He wonders if Sasha will even manage it, then realizes he shouldn’t have doubted the boy’s determination. Sasha bears down on his cock in uneven jerks, the haphazard oil job barely easing the way. Ned groans as sweet, hot pressure surrounds more of his cock with every breath. He’ll never tire of this moment, whether it’s rough and slow or fast and easy, slick with Sasha’s heat or almost dry. 

He leans back, staring unfocused at the rough-hewn awning over the porch, the winter blue sky surrounding the cabin. The water is still warm, the air smells of soap and pine trees, and his pet feels amazing on his cock. This is truly how retirement is meant to be enjoyed.

“Seventeen,” he guesses. “Eighteen.”

Moments later, Sasha’s ass finally meets his thighs. Ned takes in the sight of him, tense and trembling. His chest shudders in shallow, pained breaths, and he looks so tiny in comparison to Ned’s muscular bulk. A droplet of water skates down his neck, gilding the tendons, the blue veins under his porcelain skin. The blood from earlier has washed away.

Ned brushes the water droplet away with his thumb, then forces Sasha’s chin up so he can look at his face. Sasha’s flushed with the steam and exertion, and his lips are bitten red. With his hair flattened wet and his ears dripping water, he looks absolutely miserable. 

“Fuck, you look good on me,” Ned growls. “But that was two seconds too slow.”

He has no idea whether that’s true. He just knows he loves the way Sasha clenches even harder around him when he gets stressed. He loves how perfectly Sasha’s throat fits in his hand, and the instinctive struggle when his grip tightens. 

Tightens.

Only a broken whimper escapes Sasha’s throat before his air cuts off completely. 

Sasha claws at Ned’s arm and kicks out, thudding against the wooden tub. Water surges around them, and everything is in motion except Ned, immovable at the center of Sasha’s tantrum. He ignores the thrashing. Ignores the choked-out cries, the fingernails digging into his wrist. All he hears is Sasha’s heartbeat spiking with panic. All he sees is every fleck of dark blue in Sasha’s irises, as his pupils dilate and contract.

All he feels is the way every desperate movement jerks Sasha back and forth on Ned’s cock. Sasha can’t move without impaling himself even deeper. Ned’s own breath quickens with the sensation, how overwhelmingly attractive Sasha is as he struggles for breath—

—as he fails. Sasha’s thrashing slows. His grip slackens around Ned’s wrist. His hands splash into the water as his eyes roll back, and he falls limp in Ned’s grasp.

Breathing heavily, Ned lets go of Sasha’s throat. Sasha collapses forward onto Ned’s chest, his body heaving with unconscious need for air. Ned groans. Grabs Sasha by the hair and pries him upright again, so he can see his helpless toy’s slack lips, his shut eyes, as he rolls his hips up into him.

Sasha is completely limp and unresponsive but still so tight on his cock. A collar of bruises darkens red and purple around his throat, and the sight sends a surge of unexpected feeling through Ned. Arousal, partly. A predator’s instinct to overpower and consume, yes. But beyond that, strange and hot and inescapable, Ned feels _affection_.

Well, fuck, Ned thinks as he rocks up into Sasha’s unconscious body. He’s getting sweet on the boy after all. 

A final rough thrust pushes him over the edge, and his whole body throbs with his release. It seems to last a candlemark before the pleasure crests and subsides, and Ned falls sated from the high of conquest.

He unclenches his hands from Sasha’s hair and hip, and leans back in the tub. He wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the day here, wouldn’t mind spending all night and the next day just relaxing with Sasha sweet and helpless on his cock. He idly strokes Sasha’s spine, from his shoulderblades to the base of his tail, as the little catboy starts to twitch and stir.

His concern from earlier feels silly. There’s no harm in liking Sasha when Ned likes him just like this: fragile and bruised, fucked-out and ruined, irrevocably Ned’s.

Maybe taking his kitten on a picnic would be fun after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope everyone enjoyed the latest entry in this catboy caretaking saga :D
> 
> This installment is dedicated to the amazingly talented people who’ve written me Ned/Sasha fanfic this year. I’m blown away with how well they captured the deep moral theme of this series (unrepentant catboy abuse). If you haven’t seen these already, I highly suggest checking them out!
> 
> [Sleepy Snowflake](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22237006) and [Negative Reinforcement](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23726965) by saisis  
> [Friendly Flora](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23600563) by Mysalana  
> [Catboy in Sunbeam](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23731060) by ba_lailah


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